Wandering Spirit
by Kali1
Summary: Peter and Co. travel to the Wisconsin heartland in order to cleanse an old farmhouse of a ghostly presence.
1. Default Chapter Title

_**Wandering Spirit**_

**_Part 1_**

_**By Kali**_

Ripon, a little Midwestern town located in the heart of Wisconsin. The Ghostbusters had been called in to investigate a local haunting at an old farmhouse just outside the town limits. 

"What are we doing here again?" Peter Venkman asked, as he heaved one of his suitcases onto one of the two queen sized beds, in the small motel room that he and Winston were sharing. 

"What we always do, Peter," Egon sighed. 

"But here? I mean, I'm sorry but this little town is so........" 

"Quaint?" Ray asked. 

"No. Boring. Complete, and total, dullsville." 

"Aw c'mon Peter, bet you didn't know that Harrison Ford went to college here," Ray commented. 

"I knew that. Apparently, he found it so boring here too, that he dropped out, and left." 

"That's not why....." Ray started. 

"Peter, if you behave yourself, we can stop at the Wisconsin Dells on the way back," Egon mentioned, in an attempt to get Peter to stop whining. 

"Hmmmm..... A little mini vacation? Deal. But, did we really have to stay at this flea bag motel?" Peter asked. 

"It's not that bad," Winston commented. Having a stove, and a refrigerator, located in your motel room, was actually a good thing. Well, to him, anyway. But then, Peter wasn't particularly partial to cooking, especially, after last year's Thanksgiving 'incident'. A wisp of a smile crossed Winston's face as he recalled it. For as hard as Peter tried, one leg of the turkey ended up being raw, while the other one was burnt to a crisp. Unfortunately, that had been just the beginning of Venkman's bad cooking luck, that day. 

"Not that bad? There's no phone...." 

"We have cellulars," Egon answered back. 

"No cable TV." 

"We won't exactly have the time to watch TV, Peter. We're here for business, remember?" Egon sighed again. 

"Spoilsport," Peter said, sticking out his tongue. 

"It's what pays the bills," Egon said, shaking his head. Wishing that Peter would lighten up on the discord. Especially, since it was Peter, who was always the one obsessed about the money aspect of their work. 

"Yes, that's why we're staying at the 'Ritz', here. I thought we weren't going to do anymore pro bono work?" Peter asked, egging Egon on. 

"It's not 'pro bono'. It's.....," Egon responded back. 

"C'mon guys, lets table this discussion until tomorrow, okay? I'm famished!" Ray proclaimed. 

"Ah, food. I could go for that too, right now," Peter nodded. 

"Finally, something we all can agree on. Now where should we eat at?" Egon asked. 

"I saw an A & W on the drive to the motel. Just a couple miles down the road," Winston said. He had a strong craving for a good Coney dog, and a frosty mug of Root Beer. 

_"Somewhere down the road......." _Peter started singing off-key. 

"Oh God, please don't tell me that he's gonna keep singing that old Barry Manilow song," Ray groaned. 

"_We had the right love, at the wrong time......"_ Peter warbled on. 

"Peter's just trying to deal with the breakup of his marriage. This is just his way of coping," Winston mentioned, in Peter's defense. 

"True," Ray agreed. 

"And this is his way of convincing himself, that she will return to him eventually," Egon added, looking sympathetically towards Peter. 

"_I guess, I always knew, that I wouldn't have you, for a long time._......." Peter continued, still very off-key. 

"Definitively true," Ray nodded in agreement. "It would be nice, however, if he actually remembered more than those three lines of the song's lyrics." 

"True," Egon agreed. "Well, anyhow, let's get a move on." 

**************************************************************************** 

"Well, we're here!" Ray announced, after they had pulled up onto the long gravel driveway. A small, metallic windmill, was just ten yards away to the left of them. Further behind that, was a rickety old barn, with peeling paint. While, directly in front of them was an old, wooden dog house, which obviously hadn't been occupied in a rather long time. To the right, was the farmhouse in question. Square shaped, it was painted a dark brown, with white trim. 

As they approached the doorway, they noticed a note taped on the door. Egon picked it up, and started to read it silently. 

"Well, Egon?" Peter asked. 

"Well........ They're staying in town with relatives until we're done here." 

"How are we supposed to get in?" Ray asked. 

"In the note, they write that the key is under the flower pot. The one right over there," Egon said, pointing towards one that contained a few 'Forget Me Nots'. 

"Awfully, trusting, aren't they?" Winston asked. 

"Yes. Either that, or they feel that they don't have anything worth stealing," Ray commented. 

"Or, that the ghost will scare away all prospective thieves," Egon added. 

"What do we know about this ghost, anyway?" Peter asked, as they entered the kitchen area of the house. 

"Well, the haunting started about six months ago. At first, they simply thought it was their imagination. All the noises and the crying that they heard. But then, visitors started hearing it as well," Egon said. 

"Has anyone actually seen it?" Ray asked. 

"No. But they have seen a box of corn flakes poured all over the kitchen floor. With no 'live' person doing the pouring," Egon mentioned, as he opened up some of the dark oak cupboards, looking for the cereal brand in question. 

"Ah, a private, reclusive mischief maker. The best kind." Peter quipped. 

"Why don't you and Winston check out the upstairs, while Ray and I set our equipment up?" Egon asked, motioning towards a closed door. 

"Sure, no problem," Peter said, as he opened the door, flicked on the hallway light switch, and started up the steep stairway. "Just holler if you need us." 

**************************************************************************** 

"Peter watch out! There is something right behind you!" Winston warned. 

Stunned, Peter whirled around. Stopping dead in his tracks, he started chortling loudly. "As I live and breathe. It's a stuffed, handmade, ET 'doll'." 

"So, it's not a ghost." 

"Nope. Oh wait, it's saying something." 

"The ghost?" Winston asked. Starting to wish that he had his equipment with him. 

"'Elliot, phone home,'" Peter mimicked. 

"Cute Peter, really cute." 

"Hey! A guy's gotta have some fun." 

***************************************************************************** 

"This is soooooooooo boring!" Peter exclaimed. It was three in the morning, and so far the ghost hadn't made so much as one peep. He really wanted to get this over with. The sooner, the better. For it would be much easier to repair the damage to his marriage, if he and his ex were in the same city. 

"Peter, you're welcome to play penny poker with us if you want to," Ray invited, as he looked over to where Peter was reclined on an old burgundy couch, in the living room area. 

"I guess, since there is nothing better to do. Now, where are we?" He asked, as he sat down in a wooden chair at the old black, oval dining room table. A special game piece 'table cloth' covered the table, for the purpose of the game. 

They played until six in the morning. Whenever one of them would run out of pennies, the rest would all chip in some of theirs, in order to keep the 'bankrupted' one still in the game. 

"Who won?" Winston asked. 

"Does it matter?" Peter yawned. Barely able to keep his eyes open. 

"Not really," Winston agreed, also starting to yawn. 

Exhausted, they headed back to their motel rooms for some necessary shut eye. Mumbling their good nights, or their good mornings, as it were, they all retired for the day. Falling asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows. 

***************************************************************************** 

For evening five, Peter had managed to convince Egon to let him pick up some videos from the local Hastings to watch, while they waited. Including, Groundhog's Day, Stripes, and the Blues Brothers 2000. He had also brought with him to the job site a bucket of KFC original recipe chicken to dine on. 

"Did you remember the macaroni salad this time?" Egon asked. 

"Yes, 'mom', I did," Peter assured him. "It's right here, next to Ray's pudding cups, and Winston's corn on the cob." 

An hour into the second movie, Winston thought he heard what he thought was a girlish giggle. "Ray, are you doing imitations again?" 

"No, why?" 

"Didn't you hear that?" Winston asked. 

"No, what did you hear, Winston?" Ray asked. 

"A giggle, I heard someone giggle." 

"Winston, can you describe it? Was it male? Female?" Egon inquired, as he picked up the PKE meter to see if anything had changed. "Guys, there is something here." 

"Finally!" Peter exclaimed, reaching for his proton pack. "Let's get this spook bagged, so we can return home." 

"That was funny," a girlish childlike voice commented from behind them. 

At the sound, all four men spun around to look at her. Their packs aimed and ready. 

"It's a little girl," Ray whispered. His equipment dropped with a clatter. 

"Who are you?" Peter asked. He inspected the girl's appearance. She couldn't have been more than eleven years old, when she had passed away. Judging from the old fashioned dress she wore, she had possibly been dead for more than half a century. 

"Who are you?" The glowing specter asked softly. As she brushed her curly brown bangs out of her line of sight. 

"I asked first." 

"Peter!" 

"Well I did, Egon." 

Egon ignored him. "Honey, do you know where you are?" 

"Yes." 

"And where is that?" Egon asked patiently. 

"Home." 

"Do you know what year it is?" Egon inquired. Trying to learn whether or not she realized that she was no longer living. No longer, flesh and blood. 

"Ummmm......... no," the girl commented, sheepishly. "Is that a bad thing?" 

"No, of course not," Ray assured her. "We just want to help you." 

"Yeah," Winston agreed. Damn, she was young, he cursed to himself. 

"The other people, the old people, they can't see me. Why can't they see me?" She asked, plaintively. 

"Honey," Egon started. "Well, you see, something bad happened many years ago to you. And now, now you exist...." Egon stopped. How was he supposed to tell a little girl that she was dead?! Perhaps, it would be best if he just cut to the chase? ".... well, now.... now you need to go to the light. Can you see the light?" 

"NOOOOOOO! I don't wanna go!" 

"But honey, you want to be with your family, don't you?" Ray asked. Talking in a soothing tone, in an attempt to calm the frightened little girl apparition. 

"Y...... Yes............ where are they?" 

"On the other side. They're waiting for you," Ray told her. 

"No, I don't believe you! Momma always told me *not* to talk to strangers. So I ain't gonna talk to you!" 

"This isn't good." Egon frowned. Studying his instruments, as she disappeared from their view. 

"No kidding, Egon. What gave you your first clue?" Peter teased. 

"She's just a scared little girl," Ray commented. Trying to keep his emotions in check. They had never dealt with a child ghost yet. Indeed most of the spirits they had been forced to deal with, no longer looked remotely human. In a way, that made their task easier. 

"Perhaps, if we find out more about her life and death that will help us deal with her," Egon said, thoughtfully. 

"Good plan, Egon. Slight problem, the current occupants bought it from an elderly man fifteen years ago, who is now deceased. After his death, and after the haunting started happening, they sought out information regarding the previous owners. Unfortunately, they hit a dead end. No pun intended. It seems the old Hall of Records building burned down in 1975," Winston added. He had spent some quality time earlier in the week talking to the couple who owned the house now. Trying to learn as much as he could about the house's past history. 

"So, we'll just look through old newspaper microfiche for the past several decades," Egon said. 

"That could take forever," Peter groaned. 

"You have another idea?" Ray asked. 

"Yes, go through the local graveyards looking for any girls of her apparent age." 

"But, we don't know if her body was ever found. That could be why she is haunting this house," Winston added quickly. 

"Why don't we do both? Check the graveyards, and then cross reference that with the microfiche dates," Ray piped in. 

"Yes, and see if we can find anyone in this neighborhood who might know something," Egon murmured. 

"What neighborhood? It's more than a half mile to the nearest neighbor," Peter commented. Actually missing the hustle and bustle of the 'big apple'. 

"Okay, here's the plan. At eight a.m. sharp, we'll..." Egon started. 

Ray was barely paying attention to what Egon was saying. He kept on thinking about the little girl. This case was different from their others. There was no denying it. She couldn't be dealt with, as they had dealt with the other spirits. Imprisoned. Tossed aside. Ignored, and forgotten. He didn't want that for her. 

**Disclaimer: ** _The Ghostbusters were created by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. This fan fic is meant as pure, harmless fun, and as such, no profit is being made from it._


	2. Default Chapter Title

_****_Wandering Spirit

_**Part 2**_

_**By Kali**_

**_Author's Forward:_** _A special thank you to my beta readers Melissa and Siti Marie._

***************************************************************************** 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Winston?" 

"Why would you say that?" Winston asked. 

"Gee, I don't know. That big ole grin plastered on your face, for one thing." 

"Sorry, Pete. I was just thinking about something else." 

"Hmmm... 'something else', huh? A girl, perhaps?" 

"Pete," Winston sighed. "Why are you trying to change the subject?" 

"Uh, Winston, you're the one changing the subject here. Not me." 

"It's not like we're dealing with a menace like Gozer," Winston continued, in his attempt to direct the conversation back to the matter at hand. 

"Don't be so sure. Just because she's a little girl, it doesn't mean that she's harmless. Didn't you see that George C. Scott movie, 'The Changeling'?" 

"Yes, of course I have. Peter, the child in that movie wasn't evil, he was just... " 

"Vengeful?" 

"Alone, and hurting." 

"Winston, he killed two people. Now, I don't know about you, but, in my book, that makes him bad." 

"He was only six years old. It wasn't his fault." 

"Not to mention what he did to the house." 

"Peter, that was just a movie. I doubt that is normal behavior for a child ghost." 

"Yeah, well... Oh, there's another possible." 

"Let me see," Winston said as he trudged up to the headstone Peter was standing in front of." 

"She was only nine," Peter murmered softly, shaking his head. "Poor kid." 

"Yeah, poor kid," Winston echoed. "Never had a chance to live. I guess, that's what bothers me so much about this job." 

***************************************************************************** 

At the local library, Egon and Ray are hunched in front of microfiche scanners. There are cups of coffee easily within their reach. 

"Any luck yet?" Egon asked. 

"No. Haven't seen any possible matches yet," Ray responded, as he turned away from the microfiche screen to face Egon. "So far I've gone through all of 1930 and 1931. How about you?" 

"Nothing yet, for me either. It would help if we could narrow it down to a decade," Egon frowned. "In the very least. Otherwise, we could be here for months. And the family who hired us, could never afford the fee." 

"Perhaps, we should try talking to her again?" Ray asked. 

"Perhaps. Trouble is, after what happened last night, I'm not so sure that she will appear to us again." 

"Still, it's worth a shot," Ray yawned. "I mean, what do we have to lose?" 

***************************************************************************** 

"Here Ray, I picked this up for you," Peter said, handing him a video rental. "I thought you might like it." 

"'Phantom Quest Corp?" Sounds cool, Peter. Thanks!" 

"Yeah, well, you're welcome." 

"Here. I rented something for you as well," Ray beamed as he held up a copy of another video tape rental. 

"'Quigley Down Under?' Why, Ray, you know me so well," Peter grinned back. 

"It's so nice to see him smiling again, isn't it, Egon?"Winston asked. 

"Yes, he's been moping about Dana for quite awhile now," Egon agreed. 

**************************************************************************** 

As they watched Phantom Quest Corp, a particular scene caught their eye. It was a scene, which the lead heroine, reminded Egon, Winston, and Ray, of a certain friend of theirs, at least, in regard to their sleeping habits, and their singing abilities, or rather, their singing inabilities. 

The extremely youthful, account manager of the heroine's business, had tried awakening her with a rather absurd amount of alarm clocks. When that didn't work, he planted a boombox in front of her, and told her it was her turn to perform karaoke. 

"Hmmmmmmmm....... You know, Peter," Winston smirked, "that does give me some ideas of how to deal with you." 

"What do you mean? I'm not *that* hard to wake up." 

"Sure, Peter, whatever you say," Ray teased. 

"It's like, attempting to wake up a hibernating bear," Egon casually commented. 

"Hmmph! This coming from someone who can't be torn away from an experiment in progress, unless it's with a tow truck." 

"An exaggeration, Peter," Egon chided. 

"Or Twinkies!"Ray chimed in. 

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that," Peter grinned. 

"Or Janine," Winston added, smirking. 

At that comment, Egon blushed scarlet. "Ahem," Egon coughed out. "Guys, I think it's best we returned our focus to the matter at hand." 

"Sure, Egon, continue to live in self denial, why don't you," Peter snickered, dodging a burgundy throw pillow that Egon had pitched at him. 

"This movie is really interesting. Very real to life, in the way that it deals with the occult and the spirit world. And it's even animated to boot! Thanks for renting it, Peter!" Ray said enthusiastically. 

"No problemo, muchacho," Peter said. "Look, guys, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make a phone call." 

"Do you want us to pause the movie?"Ray inquired, turning around to face Peter. 

"No, that's okay. I don't know how long this will take," Peter shrugged. "If you need me, I'll be on the porch." 

***************************************************************************** 

Alone on the front porch of the farmhouse, Peter stared at the cellular phone in his hand for a good ten minutes. His trademarked cockiness having abandoned him. He was worried. Nervous. Afraid that she would just hang up on him at the sound of his voice. But, if he didn't try, he would never know. And if he didn't try soon, it would be too late in the evening to call. 

It was funny. He had finally come to the point, where he could face down the worst dregs of the spirit realm, with relatively little self doubt, and fear. But, when it came to calling his ex on the phone, he was shaking in his booties. 

That's because she can get to you, like no one else can, he thought to himself. 

More procrastination, more self doubt. Seconds ticked into minutes, minutes into an hour. Pretty soon, the others would come out looking for him. 

"Stop it, Venkman!" He scolded himself. "Buck it up, and make the first move, because, if you don't, you could end up regretting it for the rest of your life." 

Gritting his teeth, he dialed the number he knew by heart. The number belonging to the woman who had his heart, even though she, herself, might not want it anymore. 

"Hello," She answered, sounding a bit out of breath. 

"Hi, I wanted.... I was hoping we could talk," Peter said, as he crossed his fingers in an attempt to bring on good luck. 

"Look, Peter, I'm rather busy now. Maybe, I could stop by the firehouse tomorrow?" 

"Uh, no... We're out of town, out of state actually. Dealing with a haunting in the proverbial boonies, of all places." 

"Oh. Well, maybe when you get back." 

"I just.... I've just been thinking a lot about us, lately, about you. About how I treated you..." Peter started, struggling with the words. 

"Listen, Peter. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. I knew I couldn't change you. I was a fool to even try." 

"You are not a fool, Dana. It's my fault. I can't ever seem to be happy... I just keep on screwing up my relationships with women, with you. Dana, I can't tell you how sorry I am...." Peter began. 

"Peter, please," Dana interrupted. "Let's not get into this now. We can talk about this after you return to New York." 

"Yes, but... We're not sure how long this will take. You see. It's not the normal grab and bag for us. And I just wanted...." 

"Look, Peter, I have to go. Give me a call after you get back into town. Okay? I have a box of your things still at my apartment." 

"Sure, okay," Peter managed to force the words out of his mouth. This hadn't gone the way he had planned. But then, the best lain plans rarely ever worked out, when it came to matters of the heart. "Talk to you later," he managed to spit out with false bravado, "And give the little rugrat a hug from me." 

"I will. Good-bye, Peter. I hope you have good luck with the bust." 

"Thanks," Peter said halfheartedly. He heard a click as she disconnected her end of the line. Defeated, he slumped back onto the old rocking chair. 

"Hey, Peter, are you all right?" Ray asked, eyeing his good friend with concern. He was standing in doorway, just behind the screen door. "We're here for you, if you need to talk about anything. I'm here for you. No, matter what, you can count on me." 

"I know. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that, Ray. It's just... It just feels like I'm a failure with every relationship. My mother ... My father ... Dana...." 

"Not in all cases, you've been a good friend to us, Venkman." 

"Yeah, well...." 

"I mean it, Peter. We'd be lost without you." 

"Now, that's an exaggeration if I ever heard one. And one, I have every intention of reminding you of, Mr. Stantz," Peter teased. 

"Aw, Peter," Ray said, shaking his head slightly. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" 

"Maybe later. Right now... It's just not a good time. Now come on. We've got that down under western to watch, and a haunted house to keep under surveillance." 

**Disclaimer:** _The Ghostbusters were created by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. This fan fic is meant as pure, harmless fun. As such, no profit is being made from it._  
  



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